Rewrite the sunset squatting scene in the style of your favorite author

Mock it all you want, if you can remember it it means it's an effective piece of writing and it gets the point across.

More than can be said for a lot of shit that is respected here.

And then suddenly everything was like a Japanese porno.

I remember it because it was/is posted day in and day out on this board, not because I've read a single word of Game of Thrones

And then like all the Dothraki who abandoned her were before her, some she recognized and others she didn't, a massive sea of them as far as the eye could see. One of them stepped forward, The Khal, Daenerys presumed who looked as if he had something to ask "Do you know what bukaki is?" as he and the others began to remove their pants and circle her.

The valiant knight got down from his horse in a hurry and ran to the grounded lady.
"Are you ok ma'am?"
The lady seemed to have stomach trouble and the knight ignored the smell of poo that lingered sweetly in the breeze. The woman gurgled something that ended with the sound "as" and resumed weeping and groaning. The knight crouched and kneeled and said "I'm going to touch your shoulder, are you OK with that?" She let out a huge fart that gave birth to several smaller ones, ending in the sound of a series of bubble, like saliva popping on the corner of an infant's mouth. She howled but didn't trash around because she had no strength left.
There was no one on the horizon of the windswept, burnt, desertic, empty, hollow plains. The knight's brow furrowed and said
"do you need a healer? Can you ride a horse?" He looked hopelessly at his own horse, who had walked a few zlarktys away (it's a measuring unit, worldbuilding ok?). He was used to his horse walking away because he didn't believe in a strict and restricitve education for children or animals. The horse was about one and a half klummppa high and brown colored. It ate a tuft of grass and then another and looked back at the knight with his hand on the prostrated woman's shoulder. She lifted her face and seemed to see him for the very first time.
"Do you have water?" she begged in a thirsty voice
"yes, I have a waterskin on my horse. Hang on Miss. Can I call you miss?"
The woman shifted her knees on the grass, seeming to find strength in the promise of alvation. The horse began to walk to go at another grass tuft. The knight stood up.
"Don't move, I'll have this water to you in no time". He went to the horse and unhooked the water skin. It was pleasantly cool and full. He went back to the woman and gave her drink like a baby. She cooed gently and nuzzled at the skin, and the knight felt a deep warmness of wellbeing in his soul as well as a light stirring in his pants, which he ignored.
"I'm going to take you to a village, they'll have a healer"
And so he did, leaving a pist of shit behind as they went. The woman couldn't ride, so he carried her over his head, which at least provided shade during the afternoons. The left side of his armor quickly became dirty as the woman's bowel emptied some more, but as a valiant knight he didn't particularly care. The horse was fine too.

sunset found her chillin like a villian
oh my her butt was a spillin
she bent down low like a hoe
let the river flow
down from below

pooh so brown it camouflage wit da groun
butt like oh fuck! it makin bubble sound
streams of doodoo
she thought it voodoo
how she poopoo

groan like patron
she shit like she moan
brown so dank it burn the ozone
layer
upon layer she a true player poo in the loop like all the nigga doo

Best post in thread

1. Sunset found her
1.1 Squatting in the grass
1.12 Groaning

2. Every stool was looser than before
2.1 And smelled fouler

3. The more she drank
3.1 The more she shat
3.2 As she continued to shit, she grew thirstier
3.21 Her thirst sent her to the stream to suck up more water

I am delighted to see that you do like pissing arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when you were squatting for so long in the grass. It was the dirtiest shitting you ever gave me, darling. The stools were coming out of you for hours, in and out under your upturned rump. At every thirst you had your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if you sucked up more water, looser turds yet came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arseful of shits that night, darling, and it all came out of you, big fat fellows, long humid ones, quick little merry craps and a lot of tiny little naughty turdies ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to see a shitting woman when every drink drives one out of her.

We have a winner.

>quick little merry craps
a true connoisseur

kek

she grimaced and shit poured out of her arse, back to the mud. Say one thing for Daenerys Stormborn, say she's a squatter.

A legion of horribles, hundreds in number, half digest or clad in fumes static or reeking or passed in a fevered dream with the small edible spines of animals and sweet maize or pieces of crap still tracked with the blood of the prior passage stretched, coats of darker hue, compressed in hours of intestinal incompress, one small rock with a marble sheen and one with the rugged exterior of the prairie, combed with time uncertain and some in small clumps of indeterminate parts that form a misaligned whole as if held by lime and some in bloodstained exterior and one fluid whisky trail with no discernable start nor end and otherwise burning and one in the armour of a of an oil uncertain also, the ridges and contours deeply dented with the blows of intestinal struggles done in another country by a girl whose very messes were dust and many with their contents spliced up with the cud of other meals until they trailed upon the ground and the girl worked with bits of brightly coloured cloth to wipe despair crimson red from her cheeks and all the shits faces mottled and gaudy like a company of brown clowns, fecal hilarity, all howling in a stained yelp and riding down rectally upon the grass like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of Christian reckoning, screeching and yammering and unclothed while those vaporous beings in regions beyond knowing where the brown eye wanders and the shit jerks and drools.

she hitted a mighty procession of passage out her stinkin muhfuckin ayyss. her ass was soon encrusted with bowel-matter, and the ground beneath her noisy, trembling flanks amply serviced with fresh human excree. gulping in air through her mouth, all she could do was sustain her exertions, and drink when her body could not flush out any more of her waterous feces. like the disgusting bitch she was, for real.

Pandemonium of the Sun found her supplicant in the grass, yowling. Every putrescence oozing from the gap in her felt disjointed further and the fragrance fouler and when the moon bestowed its paleness on the plain she was passing murky water and the more it flowed more barren she became and her parchedness guided her yonder towards the brook, raw and broken and fourlegged as if becoming cerberus would let her accept heat.

She shit in the grass, looking at the shit in her breeches. She grabbed her bottle of teachers, drank it and shit some more.
"I can't stop shitting." She said.
"You shit everywhere." Said Clyde.

She shat the last of the shit and drank the water with the tortilla and shat the shit and drank the last of the water and wiped her ass and looked up and shat

Fucking class A work

...

a rumbly tumbly had she, and so she sat and shat in a field (internal rhyme does nothing to quell the disgust soon to follow). Her shit was shat in a funny way : diarrheaic, flowing flowlessly and somehow fluid, but still, it seemed to her, drinking more made it worse (A fumbly tumbly too, it would seem), and so she sat and shat.

Steinbeck?

Her ass strained under the immeasurable weight of man's absurdity, his lonesome betrayal of the universé.

At the subtle moment when the poop slithered out, she squatted once more in the sun's indifferent glare, Sisyphus returning to his squat, in the slight wrenching pushing once again the turd, plopping out her asshole, made eternal in her memory and soon sealed by her death.

One must give her peptobismal.

I like this. Who is it supposed to be?

I haven't read the books. Give me the original scene and I will see what I can do with it.

Sunset found her squatting upon that parched and wild desert wasteland where the few bare cacti grew and blew in the sparse wind and the horizon stretched around to distances where the eye of man cannot reckon nor understand. She spat.

Toadvine rode up to her. What are you doing.

Shitting, she said, and spat, squatting.

The scorching ball of Sun gazed on the razen barren steppe with blind man's eyes as the girl was squatted in the lone haven of grass patch lost in this lifeless empty as perhaps she was and the girl was muttering growls and shrieks not unlike a shot wildebeest hunter neglected and that was because her stomach weighted like a thousand stones and roared and tumbled as avalanche in fury. She shat under the sky so distant and ephemeral as if God was leaving his creation to rot for good. Stenchy streams erupted from her and colored the brown with brown then pitch-black with a vicious hint of crimson the color no painter would orphan even the mad ones littering the bazaars of countries broken by flame and uniforms. Water was of no help and fled her and got swallowed up once more by the barren diseased soil the demented father of it. Still the girl shat.

>Toadvine, lifted his eyes and his gaze dressed over the horizon and spat.

>Well hurry up then, he replied and then spat.

So wherever I am, there's always poo
There's always poo and Me.
"What would I do?" I said and poo'd,
"If it wasn't for you," and poo says: "True,
It isn't much fun for One,
but Two?
Can stick it together, the poo, says he. "That's how it is," it's poo.

Whose turds these are I think I know.
Outhouse is in the city though;
They will not see me shitting here
To watch the plains fill with brown snow.

My little dragon thinks it queer
To stop without an outhouse near
Between the brush and bowels’ ache
The brownest evening of the year.

He gives his spiky tail a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of breaking wind amidst brown cake

The plains are putrid, brown and deep,
But I have empty bowels to keep,
And stools to go before I sleep,
And stools to go before I sleep.

She took a shit during sunset.
How great. She pooped. More yet.
Squatting on the ground, she fucking moaned.
Hooray. She pooped. She groaned.

Nothing, they say, can happen to me.
It's great. I poop. I'm free.
It's me. Tee hee.

BTW, I only know of Rilke from Gass's translations, please don't kill me.

superb

I saw the best girls of my generation destroyed by diarrhea,
squatting hysterical naked,
shitting themselves in the patches of grass,
at sunsets looking
for water to fix it,
angelheaded mothers burning for the ancient heavenly
cure to their stools flowing unstopped into the gutter of scorched Earth,
who dragons and warlords and hollow-eyed and down sat up growling
among the supernatural darkness erupted of their bowels bubbling and floating
across the tops of praires caught in Sun's last rays...

Sole lucente, celeriter stercus ex spatia inter crura contendit, propter quod Caesar, hoc videns, feminae legatos mittit ut cognoscat Gallica se scelus terribile fecisse. Eam cogit ut obsides edet; sic consuetudo Caesaris erat.

As the sun came down, like some form of distant friend that would sit down after a long walk; she felt a sudden urge in her bowels to defecate.
A growling noise came from her belly and her anus opened and liberated her excrements. It kept coming, as if she was delivering some dismembered baby.
As humiliating as it was, squatting over that muddy land and taking a shit for at least 15 minutes in front of the sun, she realised this very moment was probably the truest soul experience she ever felt.

Wardine be poop

I was going for Carver. But I've been reading Steinbeck lately and I could see it there too.

...

This must be the best Veeky Forums thread of the last two decades.

I wish I knew what these are.

Gravity's Rainbow
Lovecraft
Wittgenstein
Nora's boyo
Blood Meridian
BM
I, too, would have guessed Steinbeck
BM
BM
BM
Stopping by Woods
Rilke, you say? I must read him.
Howl
De Bello Gallico?

I know most of these are obvious, I'm just listing them to see how many I get.

This is Joyce.

These are great

It has been alleged that in the year 1924 in the city of Buenos Aires a young girl, precisely at the time of sunset, could be found defecating in a labyrinth. Each stool, looser than the one before, created a profoundly disgusting smell, and by the time the tiger came upon her she was defecating brown water.

He came upon her around sunset, where she was squatting in the grass, clearing her bowels. He spoke to her and she replied curtly. As she went on, her stools became looser. He asked if she wanted some water. "Okay" she said. The water ran through her like light through brown curtains, coming out more frequently and intensely.

>brown curtains
kek

>Blood Meridian
>BM
>BM
>BM
>BM
Are there so many fans here, or what is it about shitting in the sunset that brought that on

That fucking whore was having the shits. Her anus was wide opened and vibrating like it was gonna sing a song. She was close to barfing as well from the smell and the feeling of emptiness she felt after every stool landed on the grass.
She was trying to wipe her ass on the grass like a fucking idiot, but she only succeeded to put more shit on her butt cheeks.
If you had seen her, her face was white and green , her eyes were twitching and she was drooling all over herself, wasn't pretty.
I was a bit horny strangely, but i just handed her some water and as i started to walk away, i told her to stop eating mexican. But she looked so fucking stupid that she would probably go back the next day.

"I see a ring," said the earth, "hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of night."
"I see a slab of pale brown," said the grass, "spreading away until it meets a purple stripe."
"I hear a sound," said the sun, "slop, slurp; slop slurp; going up and down."
"I see a globe," said the flower, "hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill."
"I see a crimson tassel," said the worm, "twisted with brown threads."
"I hear something stamping," said the moon. "A great beast's arse is unchained. It shits, and shits, and shits."

McCarthy's style is distinct and funny to trivialize

Can someone do this in Camus' style?

Sunset found her squatting. Or sunrise maybe, I don't know.

kek

audibly giggled

Khal Drogo - he dead
A coin for the Little Girl

I

We are the dothraki men
We are the stallion men
Riding together
Headpiece filled with bells. Alas!
Our dried hooves, when
We ride together
Are loud and meaningful
As wind in dry grass
Or horses feet over broken villages
In our grass desert

Turd without form, bush without colour,
Paralysed wench, grunt without motion;

Those who have crossed
With wooden ships, to earth's other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as cruel
Violent barbarians, but only
As the riding men
The spooped men.

Lel that's pretty good except only 2 lines are from the pooping scene

sharing some other meme

nice

...

Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning.
Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler.
By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water.

The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.
The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the
stream to suck up more water.

I am a sick man.... I am a squatting man. I am a groaning man. I believe my colon is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my stool, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't suck up water for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and proctologists. Besides, I am extremely diarrhetic, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-nourished enough not to be diarrhetic, but I am diarrhetic). No, I refuse to suck up water from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the stream by not sucking it up; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only shitting myself and no one else. But still, if I don't suck up water it is from spite. My shit is bad, well--let it get worse!

Dany was in a field shitting and it was sunset. Her poop was liquidy and smelled bad. She had "diarrhea" so she felt dehydrated. She drank water and the water made her shit again so she drank more water and she kept shitting. She felt sick. Then she thought it would be funny if she did heroin.

Dany was in a field shitting and it was sunset. Her poop was liquidy and smelled bad. She had "diarrhea" so she felt dehydrated. She went to Whole Foods and stole a mango and a bottle of Smart Water. She drank the water and the water made her shit again so she drank more water and she kept shitting. She felt sick. Then she thought it would be funny if she did heroin.

Rereading it I realized I forgot something

Putrescent cries of rotten nauseating animal filth emanating from the creek of her asshole, with highpitched deadly mosquito buzz....

THE SERGEANT: Major General! There's some sort of a rotten ... oh gawd, what is this, i-is that -flesh-?

It is sunset.

THE SERGEANT (vomits, then mutters): Jesus, just a poor boy from Indiana like me...

The projections of the mass' photos passed, although blurry by errors of exposition, the kids in the other hand played under the light and teeth oh so white. Indolent I kept pressing the button, I would've spent so much time looking at each picture sticky by reminiscence, small sunset sorrounded by water and shit like the woman I gazed upon unable to comprehend, I had pressed the button and the woman was there, in a clear shot, a turd wide and long full of pain, while she squatted, the nitid hole in the mid of her butt, the shit marking still the trajectory of the liquid torrent, the others at the side with the machineguns, a perplexing background of houses and trees.

I'm surprised no one has done Catch-22. The passage is practically begging for it.

To stop shitting, I'd have to stop drinking. But my uncontrollable shitting is what makes me so thirsty.

"That's one sweet shit, Shit-22."

"Well actually this is my 44th."

(Can someone do a good one?)

Something in my gut started protesting against its narrow and uncomfortable apartaments, at first loudly but peacefully, then violently but still loudly. I instantly knew what the problem was and shambled toward the cook's station.
"What the hell did you add to our food?"
"A hell of a lot of laxatives, James."
"And why the hell would you do that?"
"Someone's got keep the doctor on staff during the peaceful times."
And it was true - no injuries and no sickness and the doctor would be off back to States. I shambled toward him, damning the whole situation.
"Doc, my gut is trying to strangle me from the inside!"
"Yeah, that's a common problem."
"Than do something!"
"I can't."
"And why the hell is that?"
"Well, my wife back in States is gonna tear my head of when I return, so I need to stay here. It follows I bribed the cook with some laxatives."
"But why can't you help me now?"
"the cure is long-lasting, you see, and you are going to feel like a slightly obese angel in the following week, no matter what you gobble up."
"And?"
"Well I paid the cook with laxatives and they'll get devalued if they don't work. This would be a fraud and nothing less. And cook is an honest man."

Neal Stephenson? Only guessing that due to the worldbuilding

Daenerys shat.

Many years later, as she faced the firing squad, Daenerys was to remember that distant afternoon when she shat.

(too lazy to do the rest)

Well the sun was shining down on the land, you see, and i guess it was sunset. And there she was having a diarrhea in the middle of nowhere. But not a nice and quick diarrhea, no. A soul crushing one. She tried to drink from that muddy excuse of a lake but it kept pouring out of her. She was just really full of shit.

Boar-haze

Dunno

Bukowski?

Oh man, this is just beautiful

Notes from the Outhouse

Tao Lin?

Dunno

Pynchon?

100 Years of Solicitude

Hunter S.?

P.S. Excuse my autism, I just feel compelled to do this.

Replying for Yeah, i was going for a little of Bukowski and a bit of myself just playing around it.

Replying for That's interesting. Actually i just wrote it like that without any clear inspiration.

We were somewhere around some cliffs on the edge of the plains when the shits began to
take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit dehydrated ; maybe you should drink..."
And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around me and the grass was full of what looked like
huge turds, all swooping and shitting and plopping around the tree, which was going about a
hundred miles an hour with the limbs swaying, up to... Somewhere. A voice was screaming: "By the gods!
What is that godforsaken smell?" Then it was quiet again. My dwarf had taken his shirt off
and was pouring riverwine on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. "What the hell are you
yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wrap-
around dothraki cloth. "Never mind," I said. "It's your turn to get water." I popped a squat and
aimed the Great Brown Shark toward a subsection of the bush. No point mentioning the diarrhea,
I thought. The poor bastard will feel it soon enough.

Amazing

The sun shone down upon her like blood on a coyotes boot. All the wretched coils trickled out slowly forming an inescapable labyrinth of filth and woe; similar to the labyrinths that riddle Octavio Paz shitty work. With each push she yelled "fuck" and "cunt" calling each slimey turd the faggot they were.

Once moonlight covered the desert they were no longer little Dothraki pilling out, now they were a horde. A whore horde. Flushing into the unknown, the world is hatred and misery which encrusted her lips and begged for water. When it had finally ended (for now, as she will be doing this again and again throughout the night) she crawled her raped body to the waters edge in search of water.

The following things around me were brown. The brown cheeks in the blue-and-black-checked luxurious silk wrap. Two of the undergrowth's flowing shrubbery bushes, whose leaves were bright green, spread out in huge lines, which waved, so that while the limbs couldn't really be hobbled against they could be sort of squatted against, which Dannerys Tarragyn was doing absently as she waited and shat out a vast slew of her guts immensely sickening scent, i.e. squatting , which produced a kind of rapid rodential squeaking from her behind which drove her to her to the depths of the howling fantods as she sat there kitty-corner from the stream, also drinking. The shit kept pouring out of her ass. Each bush had a rotating 105 pedaled flower bulb blossoming to the front on a flexible wooden stalk that let the flower bulb curve out from behind and shine right down on whatever turd the waiting person was looking at, but since the curved bush induced this unbearable sensation of somebody feverish right there looking over your shoulder, the turds (some of whose appearances involved the color brown) tended to stay in place, and were fanned neatly out on a low bed of clover and weeds. The carpet was a product of something called moss. Dany could see streaks of lividity whereThe following things around me were brown. The brown cheeks in the blue-and-black-checked luxurious silk wrap. Two of the undergrowth's flowing shrubbery bushes, whose leaves were bright green, spread out in huge lines, which waved, so that while the limbs couldn't really be hobbled against they could be sort of squatted against, which Dannerys Tarragyn was doing absently as she waited and shat out a vast slew of her guts immensely sickening scent, i.e. squatting , which produced a kind of rapid rodential squeaking from her behind which drove her to her to the depths of the howling fantods as she sat there kitty-corner from the stream, also drinking. The shit kept pouring out of her ass. Each bush had a rotating 105 pedaled flower bulb blossoming to the front on a flexible wooden stalk that let the flower bulb curve out from behind and shine right down on whatever turd the waiting person was looking at, but since the curved bush induced this unbearable sensation of somebody feverish right there looking over your shoulder, the turds (some of whose appearances involved the color brown) tended to stay in place, and were fanned neatly out on a low bed of clover and weeds. The carpet was a product of something called shit. Dany could see streaks of lividity where some-body'd wiped against the grain some-body'd wiped against the grain.

This is brilliant
I wish I could write that well

The following things around Dany were brown. The brown cheeks in the blue-and-black-checked luxurious silk wrap. Two of the undergrowth's flowing shrubbery bushes, whose leaves were bright green, spread out in huge lines, which waved, so that while the limbs couldn't really be hobbled against they could be sort of squatted against, which Dannerys Tarragyn was doing absently as she waited and pushed out a vast slew of her guts' immensely sickening scent, i.e. squatting , which produced a kind of rapid rodential squeaking from her behind which drove her to her to the depths of the howling fantods as she sat there kitty-corner from the stream, also drinking. The refuge kept pouring out of her end. Each bush had a rotating 105 pedaled flower bulb blossoming to the front on a flexible wooden stalk that let the flower bulb curve out from behind and shine right down on whatever turd the waiting person was looking at, but since the curved bush induced this unbearable sensation of somebody feverish right there looking over your shoulder, the turds (some of whose appearances involved the color brown) tended to stay in place, and were fanned neatly out on a low bed of clover and weeds. The carpet was a product of something called shit. Dany could see streaks of lividity where some-body'd wiped against the grain.

Imagine a shit coming to someone in the grass.

Wardina be poop

As she squatted, she shat the way you fall asleep; Slowly, and then all at once

John was at the table, with a silver colored knife and fork, and a porcelain plate, and a clock without hands was nearby. The sun was setting. He clicked his tongue, and the lights went off. A brown vehicle slid out of a nearby garage, shiny and metallic in orange light.

kek'd heartily

She squatted down on her hams, lifting up the hemmed skirt of her maroon dress as she slid aside her lace covered buttocks.
"I'm a-gonna shit rit here in this grass, nobody nohow gonna stop me". The grunts all too familiar to the boy wavered through the cool damp air blanketing the pure orange skyline.

kek'd

...

someone do john green please

And soon, when dawn's rose red fingers fell away,
And night cast her shadow upon the earth,
Sat the queen in tall grass--
shitting her ass off.
And the squirts did not stop, no,
Not till the sun had already set--
And her moans and groans were heard all throughout.
And the men in the castle laughed at the woman:
"The bitch has shat herself"
"No hope for such a woman! Sly dogs!"
And her squirts continued into the night

Carson?